


Versailles at Night

by mimsical



Series: 2020 Exchanges, Bangs, and Challenges [4]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Boys in Skirts, Falling In Love, Identity Porn, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Paris (City), Queer Themes, Romance, Semi-Anonymous Sex, Sex Club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:02:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mimsical/pseuds/mimsical
Summary: Of all the people he could run into at a Parisian sex club, Kaito would never have thought Hakuba Saguru would be one.
Relationships: Hakuba Saguru/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Series: 2020 Exchanges, Bangs, and Challenges [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856839
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57
Collections: Best Sagukai Fics, Fic In A Box





	Versailles at Night

Kuroba Kaito loved being invisible.

He loved having all the ugliness in him packed away under his skin, leaving him to float through a crowd with no one the wiser to the blemish in their midst. The feeling of wrapping himself up in someone else’s skin, even someone he had only invented moments before, was like nothing else. A thorough base layer of makeup to change his bone structure, a little colorful makeup to add pizzazz, a change in poise and voice and style — maybe a fake ID claiming him to be a 21 year old American — and everything bad about himself just melted away.

The other thing Kaito was helplessly partial to was pushing the envelope past all reason and sense.

So, maybe that was why.

Leaving the champagne flute at the bar, he made his way through the throng of laughing, talking, flirting people and perched himself on the lap of his quarry, skirt riding up just a little as he settled. “Hello, darling,” he purred, pitched to be heard over the ambient noise, letting the French vowels drag out with just an edge of tipsiness. “You look like you’re in dire need of a little conversation.”

Hakuba had returned his curious glance when he had been close enough, had seen him approaching, but Kaito could tell that he was surprised nonetheless. A hand settled on Kaito’s waist to help him balance without putting his full weight on him. “Bonsoir,” Hakuba replied, and returned Kaito’s twin kisses of greeting to the cheeks without hesitation. “I wouldn’t mind a little company. I haven’t been able to visit the Parisienne scene in some time, and I’m afraid I’m a little rusty.” There was just enough accent to his words — an unfortunately charming mix of faint English and Japanese intonations — for Kaito to guess that he had learned French past childhood.

Between the dampened lighting and the completely foreign context, he felt fairly secure in his disguise. He laughed, light and warm, and let Hakuba look him over curiously without concern. “You seem to be doing pretty well to me so far. What brings you to Paris, then?”

“Oh, business.” Hakuba had a drink of his own that he balanced in his free hand as his arm tucked a little more securely around Kaito. “Hopped the channel to help a family member out with a particularly busy stretch in her work; nothing too exciting, but it’s a treat to get to visit again.”

“Ah, you’re English? I thought you might be, though you blend in well. In that case, welcome back. I doubt you’ll have too dull a time if you’re coming to such places as these.”

Hakuba laughed, and it was — interesting, to be the center of his attention without the antagonism. “Sharp as a diamond, aren’t you? I think I’ll certainly enjoy myself if I’m spending time with a charming thing like yourself. May I address you informally?”

“Yes, of course, but please, if one of us is charming then I’m sure it’s you.” Kaito met his gaze through his eyelashes, swallowing down a jolt at the phrasing. His nerves sang with alarm and fever-bright adrenaline both. Unfortunately, he had never been good at self preservation in the face of danger, and Hakuba wasn’t giving him the usual x-ray stare that meant he was trying to trick Kaito into making a mistake. “May I have a name to call you by?”

Hakuba hesitated only a second before saying, “Julian. And yourself?”

“Theo,” Kaito said easily, because it took two players to play a lying game.

“A pretty name for a pretty boy.” Hakuba took a sip of his drink, breaking the moment of eye contact.

“If you say so, flatterer.” There was no reason for Hakuba to know Kaito was in France, and even less for him to deliberately follow him to a sex club, so… “I might almost think you’re trying to seduce me.”

“Well,” Hakuba said, dry as dust, “I don’t know what could ever give you that impression in a chaste establishment like this.”

Merriment made Kaito’s voice bright even as he leaned close enough that the heat of Hakuba’s breath skated across his cheek. “In that case…”

“I’m — not much of an exhibitionist. But — ”

“There are private rooms,” Kaito agreed.

And that was how he found himself on his knees in a small, dimly-lit room, Hakuba’s fingers coaxing his hair back from hard-won tameness as Kaito ran his mouth along the bulge in his dress pants. There were free condoms in a bowl by the door, and once he had unbuckled Hakuba’s pants and gotten his cock out, Kaito used his mouth to roll it down over him as far as he could go before using his hand to finish the rest.

“You can pull my hair, if you want,” he paused long enough to say, and the according sting in his scalp made goosebumps break out down his neck. The hot weight of a cock resting on his tongue, of it gliding back to meet his soft palate, made his head spin. Toes curled, Kaito breathed deep, made his throat relax enough to assuage the need to gag. The low, pleased noise Hakuba made sent heat flooding across his face. Gods, this was _Hakuba_. What was he doing? What had he been thinking?

But he couldn’t — didn’t want to — back out now, so Kaito sucked sloppily back up the length, relishing Hakuba’s shaky sigh, nails scraping against Kaito’s scalp.

Getting away with something was the best thrill in the world, and Kaito fiercely, guiltily loved it.

* * *

Saguru was still not entirely sure that he wasn’t experiencing a very vivid hallucination.

Well. To be fair, he wasn’t entirely sure he was experiencing Kuroba Kaito, either. He’d assumed that it was confirmation bias for the first eight attempts at placing the nagging sense of familiarity. And, even if such bizarre happenstance as them being in Paris at the same time — seeking out the same Parisian sex club, all by coincidence — came to pass, what were the chances that Kuroba would approach him in a less than perfect disguise?

If this was, in fact, Kuroba, then Saguru really should have said something, never mind that he’d thought the gemstone remark a fairly obvious hint. Not that Kuroba hadn’t approached him under false pretenses as well, but.

Hadn’t his mother grown up in France? This could be a cousin, or second cousin — anything other than Kuroba himself, instigating a series of events that took them far beyond flirting.

It was probably just coincidence, and the alcohol talking. They’d both been drinking, or so he assumed. There were a few tells that were difficult to fake, like the lingering taste of champagne on the tongue Kuroba — Theo — had kissed him with before dropping to his knees.

He definitely kissed the way Saguru had secretly imagined Kuroba would, for what little that was worth.

It was just that Saguru _knew_ Kuroba, had tried to study him down to his bones when they first met. If this was him, this was just the sort of harebrained nonsense he loved.

If, if, if…

Admittedly, it was hard to string together a train of deductive reasoning when having one’s cock sucked. If this _was_ a relative of Kuroba, Saguru would be royally fucked if he ever found out. He should’ve given his name as Saguru. Maybe Kuroba had been fishing for an opening.

Probably not, though.

Kuroba — Theo, damn it — pulled off of him with an obscene, wet slurp that sent an almost painful bolt of arousal up his spine. “Do you want to fuck my face?” he asked, and in the dark, without visual cues to distract, the roughening of his voice made the image of Kuroba on his knees, mouth gone red and swollen, crystal-sharp in his mind.

Saguru rubbed a hand over his face in a silent plea for sanity. “Yes. Absolutely. I would love to.”

A quick, sharp laugh, and then — this strange boy bounced up to his feet. “Cool. Let me get the sheet, then.”

“I’ll help,” Saguru said quickly, and between the two of them it was the work of seconds to spread the sheet over its waterproof mattress.

Kuroba — hell — tugged his shirt off, dropped it on the floor carelessly. He plopped himself down on his back and wiggled until he could dangle his head off the edge of the mattress. Even in the dim lighting, his grin was a wild, electric thing. Saguru internally resigned himself to the fact that he would be imagining him as Kuroba, even if he truly was a stranger. The association had been formed, for better or worse.

“Well? Let’s do it.”

Saguru touched the edge of his cheek and jaw tentatively with fingers still slightly sticky from his hair. “You’re sure about this position? It won’t hurt?”

The boy tilted his face up and ran his tongue up Saguru’s thumb until it met the meat of his palm, leaving a hot-cold trail of dampness in its wake. “I’ll be fine. You can be rough.”

“Right. Okay.” Saguru pressed his damp thumb to the edge of his mouth, and he relaxed again, easily parting his lips to the touch. It was — overwhelming. Not bad, just that same white-hot intensity Saguru associated with chases and near-misses. He braced himself against the edge of the bed, trying to hold back a shudder of blind pleasure that started somewhere low in his belly, and fed his cock into the slippery-damp heat of his mouth.

Kuroba hummed encouragingly, catching him with a tongue curling around the head, and Saguru sank in deep in a slow, easy movement. The strangled noise he made only made Kuroba curl his tongue against him and suck just enough for Saguru’s grip to turn briefly crushing on him.

“ — _Fuck_ ,” he managed, and Kuroba’s laugh was choked into vibrations and wet noise. It was good. It was — Saguru could barely hold onto a train of thought. Anonymous sex, hookups with strangers in strange cities, it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t a shock of arousal so hot that it made him want to hold on until it hurt. Maybe it was just the — idea of Kuroba that he couldn’t shake, the bleed over from how sometimes Saguru wanted him so badly he thought he might die of it. Probably that. Yes. Kuroba — he — he was sucking at him in a slow, even rhythm, and Saguru put a hand on his shoulder just to have a way to hold onto him. “Is this okay?”

He had to pull back to get an answer and got a curl of tongue around the base of the head for his trouble. “‘s fine.” Saguru’s cock rested damply against his cheek. “I can take more, come on. Fuck me.”

His cock jerked in reply, and Kuroba was laughing silently again, a thrum of shaky pressure, as Saguru pushed back into his mouth. This time he pushed in deep, nearly to the root, and Kuroba made a rough, choked noise, swallowing and breathing in audibly through his nose. Saguru pulled back and pushed in again, faster, just a hair deeper, hot squeeze of his throat around him.

He pressed his fingers to the shifting bulge in Kuroba’s throat for a breathless moment before he gagged, pushing him back to rest on his tongue. Saguru had sucked enough dick in his life to know how to adjust his approach — quicker, briefer motions — but he left his hand on Kuroba’s neck to feel how the muscles moved, how Saguru made room for himself in Kuroba’s body, in the tight hot squeeze that left him restless. Needing more.

On one of the next pushes, Saguru realized Kuroba was squirming to kick the waistband of his skirt down to his ankles, palming himself unsteadily with one hand. Saguru shoved in harder, and Kuroba moaned.

His skin was buzzing with heat, and — there just weren’t words. A sweet-hot ache and his head full of dizzy wanting, and getting to thrust harder, getting to make a wreck of his mouth and voice — that _voice,_ his best weapon, and Kuroba not just lying there and taking it, but turned on by it enough that he had to touch himself.

Saguru’s head spun, and his body claimed the driver’s seat.

It all felt like one long, dizzy, spooling minute, an eternity of delicious heat and unthinking pleasure. Kuroba pressed his tongue coaxingly to his shaft, and — Saguru seized the invitation. He fucked in hard enough that he would have worried if not for Kuroba moaning and gripping his hip hard enough to bruise as he jerked himself faster — over and over and over and — and it was perfect, it was so good that he would surely lose his mind.

Climax was inevitable, but it snuck up on him, curling from a tight ache in his groin to him gasping and clutching onto Kuroba’s hair, messily shoving in deep to feel that squeeze one last time, and even through the condom the oversensitivity spiked with pleasure-pain that left him with watering eyes, desperately trying to catch his breath.

He slid free from Kuroba’s mouth, petting his hair and face with a blind need to express his appreciation. Kuroba turned his face into the touch, and his voice was a wreck, rough and broken from an abused throat and arousal both. “Shit — fuck, I, ah — oh, _fuck_.” His hips arched off the bed and he pressed his mouth to Saguru’s palm, whimpering out a name as he came.

A name that hit Saguru’s contented, fuzzy brain like a bucket of freezing water to the face, because it was _his_ name. Not his usual nickname while in Europe, not anything that could be twisted into sounding at all the same.

No. It was the name Kuroba had always called him. _Hakuba._

“Shit,” he said, and his voice was wobbly and uncertain. He pulled the condom off and threw it away hurriedly, and Kuroba had gone as still as a trapped animal.

And probably just as likely to bite.

“I — ” he started, and, ‘ _I guessed it was you,’_ suddenly sounded terrible, like admitting to something he shouldn’t have done — and why was Kuroba in a sex club anyway, acting like he’d done this a thousand times before? Why in disguise? “Kuroba — ”

Kuroba sat up so sharply that Saguru took a startled half-step back. But then sitting up became Kuroba nearly falling, still tangled in the waistband of his skirt and underwear, diving headfirst for his abandoned shirt, and Saguru lunged forward. “Wait!” he said, hand outstretched and barely managing to stop himself from trying to grab. “Please wait — _please —_ ”

And, unbelievably, Kuroba hesitated.

There was a ringing moment of silence, and then Kuroba snatched the shirt up, tipping himself back up onto the mattress as he yanked it on. “What,” he snapped, voice flat and hard but still roughened like an audible bruise. “Do you want me to congratulate you? Is that it? You finally got me to fuck up, but you’ll have to excuse me if I don’t applaud.”

“ _No_ ,” Saguru said, and he barely recognized the desperate, pleading tone to his voice. “I just — I wasn’t sure it was you, I — please, let’s just talk. We can talk, can’t we? Don’t — don’t go. Please.” He realized that the words had come out in Japanese, not French. It probably arose from his desperation to be fully understood, because he.

He didn’t know what he’d do if Kuroba ran away from this.

Kuroba sat there stiffly, staring at him like he had suddenly transformed into an alien creature in the last few minutes. He said nothing.

But he didn’t flee, either.

Saguru wanted quite badly to sit down, but Kuroba was occupying the only possible seating in the room. He rubbed a hand over his face and thought quickly. “Though, if you’re amenable, this is probably not an ideal location for conversation. We’re only allowed the room for thirty minutes, of which — ” He didn’t have his pocket watch on him. “ — a good portion has already elapsed.” He hesitated, doubting very much that Kuroba would like the suggestion, but. “I… have a hotel room nearby. I’m staying there alone, and we wouldn’t be disturbed.”

Kuroba’s voice was very level when he spoke. “You’ll have to give me a _very_ good reason why I should let you lead me anywhere.”

Well. It was better than an outright rejection. “There’s — no basis for me to turn this into a police trap, if that’s what you mean? And I’m wildly out of jurisdiction, besides. Nobody would listen to me. And — ” Kuroba looked very unmoved by this reasoning. “It would… If we don’t talk about it, things will be a mess. Spoken from past experience. And when we act… contentiously towards each other, it hurts Aoko-san.”

Kuroba laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound, and Saguru winced.

“Believe it or not, I do value her opinion,” he said, hearing a note of defensiveness in his voice. “I don’t wish to hurt her. I — ” Was it worth it to give Kuroba something he could use to hurt Saguru, just to get him to listen? Saguru felt compelled to try, even if it was a doomed endeavor. “I have few friends. Surely you’ve noticed.”

Kuroba shrugged. He occupied himself with scrubbing the remnants of ejaculate from his hands. Some of it had gotten on his shirt, and he dabbed at it with a frown.

“I don’t know how to make you believe me,” Saguru said at last after a few long moments of silence.

“You can’t,” Kuroba said shortly. “But I need a shower. Can’t go back like this. You can talk at me while I use your bathroom, but don’t think this means anything’s changed.”

Better than nothing. “Yes. Of course. Like I said, it’s a short walk.”

Kuroba slid off the bed and yanked his skirt up over his hips. He tossed the sheet in the bin and moved to sanitize the mattress. “Zip your pants up, idiot. And tell me the address. _I’ll_ walk us there.”

* * *

Hakuba’s hotel room was stupidly fancy. Not that Kaito had expected anything different, but still. Rich people. He’d never understand them.

Kaito used the sink to soak the stains out of his shirt from when he’d panicked and put it on without cleaning off first. He’d lost it a little bit back there, though maybe not as much as Hakuba, who was hovering in the doorway like a lost puppy. Kaito could practically hear his brain trying to decide what to do.

He tugged his skirt off and abandoned it on the floor, speaking for the first time since Hakuba had let him into the room. “Don’t touch my things.”

“I won’t,” Hakuba said instantly. Kaito slid back the shower door and stepped inside. Stupid fancy hotel, stupid fancy shower.

Hakuba had followed him to the shower door and peered inside, radiating uncertainty. “Um,” he said.

Kaito _had_ said he’d let Hakuba talk while he showered, which would be hard to do with the door closed. He sighed shortly. “Just — get in here.” He’d be able to keep an eye on him in here, at least.

Hakuba disappeared back behind the glass for a minute while Kaito turned the water on and tested the temperature. He reappeared while Kaito was ripping open the tiny box with a washcloth inside. Kaito hadn’t really gotten much of an eyeful in the club, but he was — not terrible looking. Not that Kaito was _looking_ , but it was hard not to notice. Whatever. He squeezed a little body wash onto the washcloth and started washing the makeup off the lower half of his face, keeping Hakuba in his line of sight.

“Well?” he asked when he’d rinsed off the soap and Hakuba was still standing there silently. “You said you were going to talk.”

“I — yes.” Hakuba was eyeing one of his more prominent scars, Kaito realized. Because of course he was.

“Talk, then,” Kaito said shortly.

“I don’t know what to say,” Hakuba admitted, which might have been a first. “I… should’ve made it more obvious that I’d guessed your identity. I’m sorry.”

 _I was the one who wanted to know if I could trick you,_ Kaito thought. Figures Hakuba would blame himself for this, after all the times he blamed Kaito for everything under the sun. “Well, I shouldn’t have crawled into your lap, either. It was a dumb impulse.”

Weirdly, Hakuba winced. “I encouraged you. Can’t we just say we’re both at fault? This isn’t the part that I wanted to talk about.”

“Sure. Whatever.” He started scrubbing his body clean efficiently.

Hakuba seemed to struggle with words for a minute. “I don’t — ” He stared at the floor rather than Kaito, looking lost. “I don’t usually have sex with people I know. It always gets — complicated. I don’t want things to be… uncomfortable? Things are already difficult enough, I mean. But I don’t see you as an enemy. I know we aren’t friends, but…”

Kaito tipped his face out of the water to reply. “You want to, what, just forget and move on?” Kaito was pretty good at compartmentalizing, but he wasn’t sure how effective that would be for this.

Hakuba shook his head. “I’m not sure that would work. If we were just acquaintances… Having history makes things complicated. I don’t — I really don’t wish you ill, Kuroba-kun. I believe you’re a good person. It seems hypocritical to ask that you not think poorly of me, after this. Not that I thought you didn’t already — I’m making a mess of this.”

He looked so miserable and conflicted that Kaito felt a sympathetic twinge. “If I was going to judge you for hooking up with someone who propositioned you, then I think I would be the hypocrite, not you.”

“But I _knew_ it was you. I knew it, I just didn’t — listen to my intuition, I suppose.”

“Oh, and I’m a saint for sucking you off in disguise? Come on, Hakuba. You said yourself that we’re both at fault.” Kaito wiped off another layer of makeup before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s what bothers you. Is it that the plausible deniability of whether you had sex with me is gone? You keep talking about me holding this against you, but it’s not like you thought I was all that great before this, either. You ever sleep with someone you thought was a criminal before?”

“No — but that’s not — I said I think you’re a good person, and I stand by that. I — look, can I wash off, too?”

Oh. Kaito made a vague gesture of agreement. “It’s your shower. I don’t care.”

Hakuba gingerly took the soap from Kaito, fingers barely brushing his hand. It really was strange, seeing him without the air of confidence he always weaponized when around other people. It made him seem a lot younger. Kaito changed the spray to split shower heads and took the handheld one for himself to give them room to breathe.

“I think,” Hakuba finally said, voice carefully controlled, “that you might have the wrong idea. With regards to how I feel about you, I mean.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that you _don’t_ think I’m — you know, a criminal mastermind who apparently doesn’t care about my best friend’s feelings and — has made a point of humiliating you in front of your colleagues? You’ve been pretty clear about that.” Kaito had run out of things to wash, and fiddled with the showerhead to have something to do with his hands. The washcloth and soap had left his face feeling raw, but at least he would recognize himself in the mirror, now.

“That’s actually exactly what I mean.” Hakuba finally looked at him again, cautious and unsure, but — serious, too. “I think you're capable of being charming, and kind, and thoughtful, and — I've seen more of your compassion and generosity than you seem to realize.”

It took a moment of serious effort not to walk out then and there. Hakuba was — clearly trying to not be confrontational or pushy. Kaito at least owed him the same consideration, probably.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

“You sure you're not confusing me with someone else, Hakuba? Kind of a change in tune, don't you think?”

“Not really.” Hakuba set the soap down to rinse, and he really was just… pretty. Long-legged and self-contained, hair turned bronze by the water. “It's not an ideal situation, of course, but… it doesn't make me unhappy to have slept with you.”

“Sure, but you're not happy about it, either.”

“Yes. Because you're upset by it.” Just a quick flicker of eye contact, Hakuba searching his face before politely dropping his gaze. “If you weren't — well, you're attractive and clever and — it was fun. Why wouldn't I be content with it?”

Kaito didn't really know how to reply to that. He stared at the tiles, counting up the variations in color, turning the words over in his head.

“I don't have sex with people I know, either,” he said at last. “I don't really know how this part goes.” A copout, maybe, but at least it was an honest one.

Hakuba smiled just a little. “You can sleep here, or I can call you a taxi. Or we can order dessert off the room service menu and stay up inadvisably late. I've seen more about you tonight than you meant me to, I think. I don't mind making it even.”

Kaito frowned at him. “How do you mean?”

Hakuba shut off the water, and Kaito relinquished the handheld showerhead to be put back into its seat. “Well, I could tell you a thing or two about myself. Not secrets, I think, but not things I advertise, either.”

Startled and a little confused, Kaito didn’t reply. He followed Hakuba out of the shower and dried off. His shirt was still damp, draped over the towel rack to help it dry faster. It was wearable, but it would be cold and wet against his skin. Hakuba offered him a hotel robe to wear instead, and Kaito found himself accepting it.

Curiosity, he thought, was a dangerous thing. Kaito wanted to know what Hakuba thought would balance out the things he’d learned about Kaito.

He was staying with his aunt and little cousins for the duration of his trip. They wouldn’t notice his absence for hours yet, and it was an easy thing to make an excuse for if they did. If anything, his aunties would probably be excited to hear that he had run into a classmate and spent the night cavorting chastely. It would only be half a lie.

“I’m charging the desserts to your card,” Kaito said at last, and the smile that flickered across Hakuba’s face, there and then gone again, was bright and genuine.

* * *

Saguru hid a smile behind a weak cup of tea as Kuroba made a show of complaining about the hotel’s (admittedly fussy) decor, the inadequate length of the dressing gown (maybe so, but Saguru certainly appreciated getting an eyeful of his bare legs), the fact that the hotel served fancy desserts at half past one in the morning (and that they didn’t serve the one he really wanted), that his feet were cold (he rejected Saguru’s offer to lend him a clean pair of socks), and that the tea was shit (it was).

The return to status quo was appreciated, even if it meant that Kuroba had decided to revert to being an annoying bastard.

Well. No need to stand on ceremony. Saguru tucked his feet up under him on his chair and considered his approach. “I can’t promise that I’ll answer if it’s too personal, but do you have any questions for me? Curiosities, things you never gained an answer for…?”

Kuroba raked him with an appraising stare. He drummed his fingers on the table as he thought. Saguru braced himself in anticipation of the possibility of something that would be embarrassing to answer.

“Do you have any siblings?” Kuroba asked.

Oh. That was… not what he’d been expecting. Perhaps Kuroba, too, had grown tired of endless animosity.

“I do not,” he replied, setting his tea down with a quiet clink. “Cousins, yes. Both my mother and father had siblings, and I’ve spent a lot of time with my extended family.”

“Older or younger?”

“On my mother’s side, three older, and on my father’s, one younger. The ones on my mother’s side tend closer to my age, though.” Not that he was better friends with them for it. Saguru had been difficult to get along with when he was younger, and now the awkwardness that comes with uncomfortable familiarity stood in the way. Those were details Kuroba didn’t need to know, however. “You don’t have to answer, but I was wondering — you have cousins here in France, don’t you?”

Kuroba eyed him again, and then shrugged. “Sure. I’m here visiting my aunties. They have some kids, but most of them are pretty little still. They think I’m hot shit, though, so it’s fine. Small children are the worst if they don’t like you.”

Having met Edogawa Conan on more than one occasion, Saguru privately had to agree. Aloud, though, he made only a noise of vague agreement and picked up his tea again to have something to do with his hands. “Any other questions? Or shall I see what I can think up on my own?”

Kuroba waved a hand. “Go ahead. I can’t really think of anything that isn’t boring. I can let you know if I do, maybe?”

“Sure.” Saguru swallowed another mouthful of mediocre tea. “I suppose you’ve discovered my habit of visiting sex clubs — which I would appreciate not having spread around, by the way.” Kuroba’s expression suggested that didn’t need saying in the first place, so he continued. “This grew naturally out of my fairly thorough experimentations at my first high school in London, once I was old enough for it. Nothing particularly scandalous there, I’m afraid.”

Kuroba made a face at him. “Boring.”

Saguru shrugged in acknowledgement. “Something else, then. Let’s see…” He had always found it a bit unnerving to be the sole focus of Kuroba’s attention, but time and practice allowed him to learn to mask it. “How about the name I gave you earlier? Julian?”

Indeed, Kuroba looked intrigued. “Is it not just a fake name? I thought it was just risk management.”

Saguru shook his head in denial. “No. It’s my name, just not the one you’re familiar with. Julian is my semi-official middle name. My mother’s side of the family refers to me by that name, along with my previous classmates.” He shrugged. “It’s not uncommon to have two names if you hop between cultures as I do.”

“Huh.” Curiosity and interest lurked behind the translucent mask Kuroba always wore. “So your mom doesn’t call you Saguru?”

“She does on occasion,” Saguru allowed. “Particularly if she’s angry. But for the most part, no. Only my father and Baaya did so, when I was a child. My grandparents did, but they passed away when I was still young. I suppose my uncle did as well, but I never saw him regularly until I moved back.” He shrugged in acknowledgement of the tangled web he was illustrating.

Kuroba cocked his head to the side like a bird. “Do you like either of them better?”

An interesting question. Saguru turned it over in his head. “Depends on the moment and context,” he decided. “I’m more used to Saguru now that I hear it daily, and I certainly considered it to be my true name for much of my childhood, but my early teens were a bit more complicated.” He consulted his mental clock. The desserts might be arriving soon. “Aoko-san doesn’t know.”

“No?” Kuroba’s flare of curiosity had dimmed back down again, but he seemed more relaxed than before, more willing to sprawl in his chair and make demands on Saguru’s privacy.

“Never came up. And I suppose I deliberately refrained from mentioning it. It was simpler to stick to what she already knew.” A fact which Kuroba knew quite well, he was sure. What else… “Ah. Speaking of Aoko-san…”

Someone knocked on the hallway door. Even expecting it, Saguru was still startled. He got up to let the staff member in and tip them for their troubles. Kuroba stayed curled up in the chair, silent and watchful other than to thank them. Once they left, Saguru locked the door behind them, slightly rattled. When he returned to the table, he found the remaining dregs of his tea to be lukewarm at best.

“Do you want more tea?” he offered.

“Sure. Thanks.” Kuroba probed his dessert and then licked a tiny amount of caramel off his finger with a tiny flash of pink tongue. Saguru was _very_ glad to have the excuse to go make more hot water to hide the way he’d flushed red at the sight. Gods. It’d been bad before, but now he was almost certainly doomed to want Kuroba terribly for the rest of their… acquaintanceship. The attraction had always been a factor, but now that he knew Kuroba could be interested, Saguru suspected he might be in trouble.

Especially seeing how he wanted to forget about the pretexts they had for conversation at the moment, drag Kuroba to bed, and kiss him until his mouth bruised purple.

Saguru took a deep breath in a bid for tranquility and brought the pot of water over to refill the mugs.

“Aoko?” Kuroba prompted when he was resituated.

“Right. Yes.” Saguru nibbled on the corner of a macaroon. “Just, ah, a misconception you might have harbored. Well. Clearly you’ve discovered first hand that I — ” The blush was back, but from embarrassment this time. “What I mean to say is that I… prefer men. Exclusively. I know I flirted with her in front of you when we were still high schoolers. It was — a confusing time for me.”

Saguru would be keeping the fact that it had been Kuroba himself who had unwittingly aided him in gaining clarity to himself.

Kuroba merely raised an eyebrow. “So, what, you’re just an incorrigible flirt because…”

He shrugged. “It’s fun. It puts certain types of people at ease. I’m usually good at making it clear that there’s no further intent behind it. Also, I don’t think you can count it as me flirting with women if they’re you in disguise — ” Oops. “ — Um.”

The other eyebrow went up to join the first. Saguru winced.

“Can we just pretend I didn’t say that?” he tried.

Kuroba shook his head scoldingly, but there was a hint of a smile lingering around his eyes. “You’re on thin ice. I think you should bribe me. You know, buy my lenience.”

Saguru silently slid over one of the macaroons. Kuroba popped it into his mouth whole and waggled his eyebrows at him. Saguru was hard-pressed not to laugh.

“Terrible,” he said instead. Two could play at that game, though. “Oh, I’ve just remembered,” he said, shaking a hand out of his sleeve. “I wanted to show you something.” He held it up and Kuroba looked at it automatically. Saguru immediately swiped a finger from his other hand through the creme caramel.

There was a moment of silence as Kuroba looked at the hole in his dessert and then back up at him. Saguru conjured up the most innocent expression he could manage without laughing as he popped the finger in his mouth. He’d never been a big custard person, but vengeance would make any food that much sweeter.

Without missing another beat, Kuroba said, “At last! The real Kaitou KID has been found.”

Saguru cracked up. Kuroba’s deadpan expression broke into amusement as well, and — it felt like a private joke for the two of them, like Kuroba acknowledging that there was something of a secret shared between them. Perhaps the idea of conspiratorial humor should have bothered him, but Saguru only felt glad.

“I think I have a question after all,” Kuroba said after the laughter faded.

“Oh?”

He nodded distractedly, gaze focused somewhere to the left of Saguru. “Does it bother you? To have had sex with your main suspect? It’s — not very scrupulous.”

Ah. It was a fair question. Saguru was privately a little surprised at how unbothered he was, but — “No, not really. I never really wanted to be a member of the police force, where conduct matters most. I…” He turned it over in his head, hunting for something useful to say. “I know you. You are not a malicious person. I’ve always — my main interest has always lain with helping people. This doesn’t necessarily run contrary to that.”

Kuroba studied him for a moment, perhaps looking for signs of dishonesty, but then he nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he’d found. “All right.”

“Does it bother you?” The words had come without planning for them, and Saguru hastily amended, “To sleep with someone you’ve been at odds with?”

Kuroba considered, then shook his head. “It’s a little weird. But not really upsetting. Other than — the getting caught part, I guess. But that was more about fucking up. And…” He hesitated before continuing. “Well, getting caught doing something I’ve tried to keep secret. I don’t advertise the sleeping around. For obvious reasons, I should think.”

“Sure,” Saguru agreed easily. He checked the time. It was getting later; the conversation had meandered long. Kuroba didn’t look tired, exactly, but he didn’t seem as alert as he had before. Part relief of tension, part warm drink in his stomach, at a guess, as that was what made lethargy start to creep over Saguru. “You’re staying with your cousins?”

“Mmhm.”

“Small children get up early,” Saguru noted. “They’ll be up in only a few hours.”

Kuroba made a face but nodded.

Well. Nothing to it but jumping in feet first. “I… you’re welcome to stay the night. The bed’s big. And I won’t hold it against you if you sneak out while I sleep.” He tried for a smile to show he meant it kindly. “I don’t know how far we are from where you’re staying, but if it’ll save you a drive better spent sleeping…”

Kuroba spun his spoon between his fingers, thinking it over. Saguru finished his tea and stacked their empty plates back on the tray they had arrived on.

“Okay,” Kuroba said at last. “Sure. If you’re sure, I mean.”

Saguru shrugged off the question. “I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. I’m afraid I don’t have a spare toothbrush, though.”

“I’ll live.” Shifting in his seat, Kuroba stretched, and some of the weariness was visible through the cracks of his mask for a moment. Saguru felt reassured that he’d made the right decision. “I call bathroom first.”

“By all means,” Saguru said graciously, and took the opportunity to change into fresh boxers and an old shirt to sleep in. When Kuroba returned, Saguru offered him a shirt of his own, and was pleasantly surprised when Kuroba accepted. Saguru went to clean his teeth and have a moment in privacy to feel a thrill of nerves over sharing a bed with a pretty boy that he knew personally, and when he returned, Kuroba had already claimed half the bed.

“I see you’ve stolen one of my pillows,” he observed mildly as he climbed into bed himself.

Kuroba flashed him a smile that was mostly teeth. “I figured that if you felt bereft, you could just use me as an extra one.”

Somehow, Saguru managed not to flush. “And impale myself on your elbows? I think I’ll manage.”

Kuroba laughed, and then hid a yawn behind his hand. “Get the lights?”

Saguru switched off the lamp, plunging them into darkness. He blinked while his eyes adjusted, listening to Kuroba rustle around in the blankets. Daringly, he nudged Kuroba’s shin with his foot, and then laughed, startled, when Kuroba immediately captured his ankle between his legs. Fast reflexes as ever. He tugged his foot free and retreated to his side of the bed. “Good night, Kuroba-kun.”

“Night, Hakuba.”

* * *

Saguru awoke with a start in the night, confused and disoriented. The room refused to settle into a shape he recognized, and he didn’t know where he was. He’d kicked the blankets off in his sleep and his legs were cold.

And then something rustled nearby and everything settled into place all at once. A hotel. Kuroba in bed with him. Paris. He breathed out the rush of tension and rolled over to seek the blankets.

Instead, he found Kuroba, who made a sleepy, puzzled noise before rolling closer, bringing the blankets with him. His words came out slow and slurred with drowsiness. “You okay?”

“Mm. Fine now.” Saguru turned into Kuroba’s touch, his good sense having gone to sleep with the rest of him, and found himself drawn in so that their legs tangled and Kuroba’s hand fisted in his t-shirt.

“Shit, you’re freezing.” Kuroba ineffectually tried to drag more blanket over him. Saguru just burrowed in closer until Kuroba forcibly rolled him onto his back and crawled on top of him, blanket in tow. “Still okay?”

Saguru nodded and blindly turned his face towards Kuroba until their noses brushed together. There was a hitch in Kuroba’s breath, and Saguru’s lips turned up at the corners. He was so _warm_ , pressed all along Saguru’s side and draped over his leg. “This is nice,” he mumbled.

Kuroba huffed out a tiny laugh. “You’re weird.” But he titled his head in and pressed a tiny, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth. Saguru made a pleased noise, encouraging, and tried to chase him when Kuroba hesitated. This time their mouths slid together fully, and Saguru had one hand in Kuroba’s hair, playing with the little curls at the nape of his neck. Everything was warm and so nice that Saguru was almost afraid of how good it felt, being held and entangled with someone he had liked for years.

The kisses were chaste and slow, sleepy assurance passed back and forth between them. Saguru wanted to kiss him forever, stay right there in that moment and chase the sweetness for as long as his brain would let him. Sometimes Kuroba’s mouth slipped away, and he would press little kisses to his chin and cheeks and nose, and if he had been a cat, Saguru was sure he would be purring with contentment.

Kuroba’s breathing was a little shaky, and Saguru pet up and down the length of his back, trying to soothe him into accepting the affection that welled in his chest. He thought he was at least partly successful, but it was hard to tell, because somewhere between the kisses and the warm relaxation, he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

He awoke once more to light sneaking in around the edges of the curtain. It took a moment to place what had woken him, but after a moment, the sound returned to him. The door. It had shut quietly but decisively. Kuroba was gone, but the bed was still warm where they’d tangled together. Saguru rolled over into the warmth, stole back Kuroba’s pillow to rest against, and closed his eyes.

* * *

When Saguru woke up for real, it was to the sound of his phone buzzing. He groggily answered it and spoke to his mother about the plans for the afternoon. It was eleven in the morning; he still had a few hours before he had to be anywhere. When they hung up, he slumped back down on the bed, yawning.

If it hadn’t been for the dirty dessert dishes and the second used towel in the bathroom, Saguru might have had serious trouble believing it was real. Kuroba — had always been a weak spot of his. Thinking too hard about what exactly had transpired between them left him feeling rather dizzy and weak-kneed. Saguru took his pulse leaning against the bathroom counter and was moderately embarrassed to find that it elevated rapidly when he remembered Kuroba curling up against him to keep him warm.

Would things be the same, the next time they saw each other in Japan? Would they act like nothing had happened?

The thought of pretending that the flare of connection that had blossomed between them didn’t exist depressed him, so he put it determinedly out of mind. He would focus on assisting his mother with the work she’d asked him to do and try not to worry over things he could not control.

His phone chimed again. Saguru thumbed it open and his heart jumped into his throat. Kuroba had messaged him.

_Kuroba Kaito [11:23 AM]: So, I told my aunties that I met up with a friend and that’s why I wasn’t there last night and now they want to meet you._

_Kuroba Kaito [11:24 AM]: Specifically they insisted that I invite you over for lunch or dinner if you want to do a weeknight. I’m in town through all next week, so. Whenever works for you._

_Kuroba Kaito [11:24 AM]: Obviously you don’t have to say yes._

Saguru opened his calendar. He was busy during most of the week, but...

_Hakuba Saguru [11:28 AM] Is tomorrow okay? I’m free most of that afternoon._

_Kuroba Kaito [11:35 AM] Sure. I’ll send you the address._

Saguru carefully set his phone down before burying his face in his hands. He tried to repress a smile, but it crept across his face insistently. It was the exact kind of giddy infatuation that he’d always tried very hard to steer his feelings about Kuroba away from, but it was hot in his chest and adamant about being felt.

He wouldn’t text Kuroba to say that he would be happy to see him again, but the feeling inside him was loud and clear.

The anticipation burned in him like a steady coal, keeping him warm all through the drudgery of helping move things and set up while his mother stood in the center of the room and directed the chaos of setting up a fashion show without so much as an eyelash out of place. 

Usually he would have been bored. Instead, he couldn’t shake the reckless hope, and his imagination ran wild all day long. Even the cool, formal meal with his mother didn’t manage to more than muffle the feeling. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep that night. 

The nervousness, of course, set in when he woke up the next morning. 

It wasn’t a date, he reminded himself as he stopped to purchase a hostess gift. Kuroba’s family only knew him as a friend — possibly just an acquaintance — of their nephew. Small children afoot probably meant dressing down, but being invited to someone’s house meant he should still look sharp, but not so much so that Kuroba would notice the effort. He should just be — polite, but friendly, and attentive to the children, and, most importantly, not awkward about having slept with — gods. 

In short, Saguru gave up on hoping for anything other than not looking like a nervous wreck. When the time indicated that he would arrive only a dozen or so minutes late, he tucked the chocolates in his bag and called a taxi to pick him up. 

It was moments like this where he always missed Baaya. She had travelled less with him for shorter trips as he grew up, but he always felt out to sea with deep waters below him without her gentle advice and support. He had enough practice in most situations to bluff his way through if needed, but… 

Well. She would’ve guessed what it was about this particularly social situation that had him stymied, he was sure. It would have been, of course, terribly embarrassing to have her knowing eye on him as he fussed with the cuffs of his sleeves. Saguru had never managed subtlety with regards to his… particular flavor of interest in Kuroba, but that was exactly why he wished for her advice. She would’ve been able to guess at what Kuroba intended by this invitation. 

In no time at all, he had arrived. The apartment was on the second floor of a cheerful, eggshell blue building. Saguru was grateful for the climb up the stairs as a reprieve before facing the music. 

Kuroba was the one to answer the door. His hair was as wild as ever, and he was mostly expressionless except for a faint flush that lingered across his nose and cheekbones. “Hi,” he said in French. 

“I brought chocolates,” Saguru blurted out in rehearsed Japanese before hastily rerouting to match his French. “I mean — hello. It’s nice to see you again.” 

There was the slightest shift in Kuroba’s face, as if he was carefully restraining a smile. “Sure. My aunts will like that. Come in?” 

He opened the door wider. Someone called out in French from deeper in, asking Kuroba if someone was at the door, if his friend had arrived. 

Saguru took a deep breath in a bid for steadiness, and then he followed Kuroba inside. 

**Author's Note:**

> i didnt quite manage to fit it into the story but kaito's aunties are, indeed, lesbians. kaito thinks he is being subtle but they 100% guessed that there is Something happening between him and saguru and they think it's very cute to watch them fumble through awkward attempts at flirting.


End file.
